Falling Into Place
by HedyLamarr
Summary: Sequel to The Bends. Everything about his life has changed, and it's almost too much for Gordon. But there is one silver lining.
1. Chapter 1

Falling into place

As Gordon gradually came to, he realised with something approaching a sense of wonder that he'd been sleeping. Not unconscious, and not trapped in some nightmarish suspended animation. Sleeping in a real bed, with a pillow and a blanket. And if he was in a real bed, then it was highly unlikely that anyone was about to, say, dump him in a trash compactor. He felt warm, comfortable and safe, which was such an unusual sensation that he decided to try and make it last as long as possible. Gordon had never really had a problem with time keeping. He just loved sleeping too much.

When he opened his eyes, he realised that his glasses were gone. His memories came rushing back to him, and he sat upright with a cry of alarm. He was groping frantically for his glasses when the curtain around his bed was drawn back, and he was greeted by the unedifying sight of Arne Magnusson.

"Ah, Dr. Freeman. Feeling refreshed?" Gordon ignored him and continued his search. "Oh for heaven's sake Freeman, here they are." He passed Gordon his glasses, which had been resting on a locker. "Did you really think someone was going to steal them? Although it's hardly unlikely considering the cult of personality that seems to have sprung up; I'm surprised people weren't up here trying to steal a lock of your hair... Good morning, Dr. O'Donnell." Magnusson's voice dripped with the contempt he reserved for people who claimed the title of doctor without holding a PhD.

"Morning Arne." Dr O'Donnell pronounced it Arnie, which Gordon knew drove Dr Magnusson crazy. He thought he might like this doctor. "Gordon, my name's Jane O'Donnell, how are ya?"

He opened his mouth to speak, but suddenly felt overwhelmed. He remembered the Striders, the feeling of sweat and grit caking his body as he ran, the terror as the base alarms began to sound. Then the Advisors, D0g, Eli… He could remember further back, fighting in the streets of City 17 with Alyx by his side. And before that, Black Mesa. But in between the two, there was no information.

Everyone he had met while fighting the Combine seemed to assume he knew exactly what was going on, and there had never been an appropriate time to explain otherwise. Nearly every conversation revolved around objects, places or events that were entirely outside his frame of reference, so he was unable to join in, and had spent his time listening furiously instead, trying to work out what was going on. He felt isolated, even when he was surrounded by a roomful of people.

Gordon couldn't even begin to put into words the way he was feeling, so he simply sat there with his mouth half open, earning himself a roll of the eyes and a shake of the head from Dr Magnusson. Dr O'Donnell just tutted reassuringly.

"Still feeling a little woozy? Don't worry about it, I'll just give you the once over, then you can go back to your quarters to rest. Normally I'd keep you in here longer, but as you can imagine, we're pretty busy." She took his temperature, shone a light into his eyes, asked him to move his head and to wiggle his fingers and toes. Then she unhooked him from her equipment, and finally listened to his chest and abdomen. Embarrassingly, his stomach rumbled just as she placed her stethoscope. She chuckled.

"Well, that sounds normal. You must be hungry. I'll have a medic show you to your quarters, then you can go down and get something to eat." Gordon eased himself out of bed, and made his way on slightly unsteady legs towards the door. Dr O'Donnell noticed him trying to adjust his medical gown. "Don't worry, I'll have them send you some clothes along as well."

"Oh and Freeman?" Dr Magnusson called after him, "Take a shower. You do stink."

The living quarters were not far from the sickbay. They passed several doors opening onto rooms with bunks and couches, where rebels were sleeping or else talking quietly. No one seemed to notice them, for which Gordon was profoundly grateful. He didn't want to have to be the One Free Man while there was a danger of his gown springing open, revealing the one free ass. They soon arrived at a closed red door. The sprightly young rebel unlocked it, and handed Gordon the key.

"Here's your room, Dr Freeman. The showers are just across the hall. I'll have someone bring your clothes. Well, enjoy!" She left, and Gordon opened the door. The room was small compared to the ones he'd seen, and there was only one bed, along with a locker and a desk. Officer's quarters. So he was an officer now; he couldn't think of anything he wanted less. He decided to take a shower. Magnusson was right, he could even smell himself. He closed the door behind him, but didn't lock it. It was absurd; he must have fewer possessions than anyone else in the world at this point, let alone on the base.

The bathroom was a huge tiled space, divided down the middle. To one side was a row of stalls, opposite a long stainless steel sink and a mirror. The other side was nothing but showers. There was a huge window at the opposite end, looking out at the sun rising across the tops of the pine trees. It kind of reminded him of the shower area he had seen at Nova Prospekt, but it was clean, and there was no sign of the Big Daddy antlions. All in all, a nice place to take a shower. He pulled off his medical gown and examined himself in the long mirror. It was weird, he thought, how despite the fact he seemed to spend a lot of his time fighting in bathrooms, he never seemed to see his reflection.

He hissed through his teeth when he saw himself. Maybe the lack of mirrors was a good thing. His hair stuck up, thick with grease and dirt, his beard was overgrown, and two of his teeth were chipped. His body was covered in cuts and bruises, which he knew would heal much more slowly now that he was out of his HEV suit. Thank goodness all of his bones had been in one piece when he took it off. He noticed the small red mark on the inside of his elbow, where the suit drove its needle into his vein. The night before, it had been huge and red, and he had kept trying to scratch it, until a cool hand had restrained him.

It was quite alarming how much damge he seemed to take in the course of his "adventures". He'd always felt that, while orange was a very practical colour for the HEV suit when he got stuck somewhere in the Black Mesa assault course and the retrieval team had to find him in time to get back to his dorm to watch the Doctor Who marathon with Barney, it was less suited to environments where he was a brightly coloured moving target.

He had ended up paying for it last night. His body had felt like it was on fire. He had been at the very end of his reserves, his many injuries all claiming their toll after he had removed the suit. The Vorts had helped him the way they had helped Alyx, somehow weaving him back together. Without them, he knew, the fever would have killed him. In his delirium, he thought they had spoken to him, and for the first time ever he had understood everything they said, but none of it had remained in his memory. Now he felt better, but still delicate, and also deeply weary. This was his life, now and for the foreseeable future. At least at Black Mesa, he had been able to cling on to the hope that his life would go back to normal, but here?


	2. Chapter 2

Falling into place Chapter 2

As Gordon stared thoughtfully into the mirror, a Vortigaunt appeared at the door, carrying a bundle. He covered himself, but it seemed unfazed. Maybe it didn't mean anything to Vorts, after all, they were naked all he time.

"These were carefully selected for the Freeman by the Alyx Vance." It handed the bundle over with a weird bowing motion, and left. There was a small khaki pouch containing soap, toothpaste, a toothbrush, and – oh, thank God – a razor. The packaging of the soap and toothpaste were covered in Cyrillic script, and he suspected they had been around a while, but he found he didn't care. He'd had radioactive waste, alien blood, and he didn't like to think what else in his mouth, so a little out-of-date toothpaste was a welcome change. He scrubbed his teeth (chewing on the brush, a bad habit of his since childhood) while he examined the clothing, which consisted of a Black Mesa t-shirt, a soft plaid shirt, a hooded sweatshirt and a pair of combat trousers, with a pair of thick woolen socks.

Alyx had chosen this for him. He wondered if she had chosen it with care and attention, thinking about him as she did so; or whether it had simply been a matter or grabbing clothes which looked like they would fit. His thought often turned to Alyx, wondering at what point his feelings for her had changed from admiration mixed with exasperation, to affection, to… liking, definitely. The scary kind of liking. He'd also wondered what she looked like out of her clothes, but it was an academic consideration. While he wore the HEV suit it regulated his hormones, and the hormones it released were those of combat and survival. Now that he was free of the suit, his other hormones were kicking in. He pictured Alyx in his mind, heard her voice.

"Thanks for coming after me Gordon… Got room for two in there… Imagine how long it's been since anyone stayed in here…" That last image was the one his mind fixed on. He stood with Alyx, alone together in the White Forest Inn, sunshine and a light breeze streaming through the windows. It was a safe place in his mind, there were no Combine lying in wait; and although it was his own time, the Inn was still deserted. He laid Alyx down on the bed, which in his imagination had grown to a big four-poster, and she reached up to him…

As he came back to himself, Gordon glanced downwards, and couldn't help feeling pleased that the equipment was still working after all this time. It would be pretty embarrassing, though, if anyone else decided to take a shower. He considered getting rid of the problem himself, but reflected that the last time he'd done _that_ it had made him late for an important experiment, and the day had only gone downhill from there. As he stepped into the shower, the icy cold White Forest spring water soon resolved the situation. It was still the all-time best shower of his life though. He soaped himself over and over, marveling as the water that ran down the drain in the centre of the floor went from greenish-brown to grey to clear.

Gordon used the last of the soap to shave as he dried off, then dressed and left the shower block. A pair of black running shoes had been left outside his door, and when he tried them on, he was surprised to find that they fit perfectly. The only people on the base who could have possibly known his shoe size were Dr Kleiner and Dr Magnusson, who had measured him up for the HEV suit. It did seem a particularly irrelevant piece of information to have retained for decades, but that was eccentricity for you. Gordon shrugged as his stomach rumbled again, and wandered off to find the mess hall.

Breakfast consisted of some kind of crackers or crispbreads, black coffee, and, to his delight, a huge pile of scrambled eggs. He was starving and he demolished them at an alarming rate. When he was finished, the rebel who had been hard at work behind the stainless steel counter was upon him before he could stand.

"You like 'em, Dr Freeman? You want some more?" Gordon hated being singled out for special treatment, and the man was so eager for his praise it was almost embarrassing. But damn it, he _did_ want some more. He nodded awkwardly, and before he could say anything, the chef had grabbed his plate and was headed back to the stove. "Thanks for the eggs, they're, uh, awesome!" Gordon called after him, but he didn't think it was loud enough to hear.

He ate the second plateful more slowly, thinking about what had just happened. He accepted that, while wearing the HEV suit, he was fairly unmistakable as Gordon Freeman. Why that should be so important to a group of people he'd never even met still wasn't clear, but it was at least a start. But now, in his combat pants and sweater, he looked fairly similar to the other Resistance members, yet people were still acting like it was some kind of privilege to meet him. Presumably, the rebels he'd fought alongside in City 17 had pointed him out to everyone else. The ones who'd survived the experience, anyway. Gordon knew that people had died because he had lost his way and lead them into the wrong buildings, or hadn't thought quickly enough; and once or twice because he'd just lost his nerve and run, trusting in the HEV suit to take the worst of the damage, an option which hadn't been available to his companions…

Gordon's cheeks burned with shame at the memory. Doubtless it was only a matter of time before those stories started spreading too, if they weren't already. He found it incredibly difficult to deal with the adulation he received, because as far as he was concerned he hadn't earned it. Was it going to be easier or harder to take what would be well-deserved accusations? Gordon pushed his plate away, his appetite gone. He rubbed his chin thoughtfully. Maybe if he shaved his beard, and got one of those beanie hats to hide his hair? He knew it was a cowardly idea as well as totally impractical, but it was still very tempting to try. He'd need a flak jacket, and a rag with a lambda on it to tie round his arm as well. Hah, the lambda. It was a fitting emblem for him to wear on his chest; it represented decay, the rate at which things fell apart. Breen had been right, he was good at destroying stuff, but despite the idealistic plans he'd made as a student, he'd never created anything. But it had also been the symbol of the Lambda Complex; the people who had first traveled to Xen and set in motion the chain of events that had lead to the resonance cascade. The fact that people were now fighting and dying under that same banner was surely a sick joke.

As he pushed back from the table and stood up, Gordon noticed a rust-coloured mark on one of his shoes. There he was earlier, thinking how lucky it was that they had a pair of shoes his size, when in fact what it meant was that someone else with size eleven feet had been unlucky. The same thing surely applied to everything he was wearing. He shivered, and suddenly felt he had to get out of there. He left the mess hall and strode along corridors, ignoring everyone who tried to speak to him, until he finally managed to find a door to the outside. The air felt refreshingly cold on his skin, and he took a deep breath in as he broke into a run.

His sides burned and his head began to swim almost immediately. He knew the doctor had told him to rest and recover, but he didn't care. He just had to get away from people; which was ironic, given how lonely he'd felt since arriving in City 17. Judging by the way his friends had aged he was at least 20 years out of time, he was in a totally unfamiliar place, and the world had changed beyond all recognition. Added to that, his friends were engaged in a ridiculously one-sided struggle against a totalitarian, alien-human hybrid, occupying army. And he had been given no option but to join the fight, due to the simple reason that the Combine tried to kill him everywhere he went. But the people he met saw him as a talisman, even though he was surely the opposite, bringing trouble in his wake. They followed him, seemed to want to die for him, and he didn't understand why.

Once he was out of sight of the base, Gordon slowed to a walk. He enjoyed the fresh air and the springy feeling of the pine needles under his feet, and the fact that no one was trying to kill him. Since the resonance cascade he'd done nothing but overcome a… a _barrage_ of constant obstacles (he was careful not to use the word parade) while fighting off attacks from aliens, the US military and now the Combine. Now, during an apparent lull in combat, and with his head free from the haze of morphine and adrenaline that the HEV suit imposed, Gordon felt able to think clearly for the first time in what had to be at least a week.

Unfortunately, it didn't really help. No matter how many times he went over it in his mind, he always ended up back at the same questions. Gordon was used to being able to solve problems by thinking about them, so to be stuck without the information he needed to complete the equation was incredibly frustrating.

He had only come across two people who might have been able to fill in the gaps. One was the Grey Man, who enraged Gordon when he was feeling brave and terrified him when he wasn't. He remembered the Nihilanth's words; he wasn't really a man at all, and he waited for Gordon…

Gordon felt the hairs stand up on the back of his neck as he whirled around, suddenly convinced that the Grey Man would be waiting right there behind him. But the path was empty, so he bit his lip and walked on, thinking of the second man. When Gordon had first seen the giant face of his former employer welcoming him to City 17, it had just been another surreal element on one of the most confusing days of his life. Breen's continued presence on screens and posters had reminded him of a recurring nightmare he'd had around the time of his PhD viva. "Synonymous with the darkest urges of instinct, ignorance and decay" certainly seemed like something his old supervisor would have come up with. He'd soon come to despise Breen as the other members of the Resistance did. It just seemed so typical of the man, somehow, that while the other Black Mesa survivors would be fighting and working to atone for what had happened, he would be in a comfortable office making nice with the invaders.

Yet Breen would undoubtedly have known a lot about his situations; and unlike the Grey Man, Gordon thought he would have had a relatively good chance of making Breen answer his questions. He'd been so angry with Breen for taking Alyx that he'd spent most of his journey through the Citadel visualizing exactly how he was going to use what he thought of as the _uber_-Grav Gun to bounce the man's head off the wall. But he'd arrived in the Administrator's office a captive, and was forced to listen only to what Breen chose to reveal. He had known about Gordon's 20-year Time Out, and he had implied that he also knew about the Grey Man, when he said that Gordon's contract was open to the highest bidder. Which lead to yet another question – how on earth had the Resistance "outbid" the Combine? They didn't seem like they would be richer than the Combine in any particular resource; and while Gordon hated feeling like the pawn of a faceless intergalactic cartel, he comforted himself with the thought that he must at least be an _expensive_ pawn.

There was someone else that might have been able to answer his questions, but he was gone now. A pang of loss swept through Gordon then that was so severe he had to stop and rest with his hands on his knees, taking deep breaths that escaped back out as little sighs. He had been deliberately avoiding thinking of Eli, but now he couldn't stop himself. Eli had been his colleague, his friend, and also a role model. Kleiner was his mentor, but Gordon had always wanted to end up with a wife and family one day, not like, well, Kleiner.

He forced himself to swallow the huge lump in his throat. There was an element of resentment mixed in with his sorrow, and he made himself focus on that in order to avoid giving in completely. Based on what he'd said before his death, Eli had known more about Gordon's situation and the Grey Man than he had let on. Much, much more. And hadn't there been an element of leading him on? Eli would ask him to do something or go somewhere, with the unspoken promise of rest, shelter and above all answers at the end. Gordon remembered his mother reading him a story when he was small, in which the protagonist discovered that the reward for completing a difficult task was usually to be given an even more difficult task to accomplish next, and that certainly had been the case with Eli. Gordon's rational side knew that this surely hadn't been intentional on Eli's part, but the fact remained, and Gordon was doubly bereft; he had not only lost his close friend, but also the prospect of answers.

A/N: the book Gordon's mum read to him is The Horse and his Boy by CS Lewis.


	3. Chapter 3

Alyx wandered slowly along the path that lead away from the quiet clearing where her father and the others who had fallen were buried. She had left the hospital wing once it became apparent that Gordon was out of danger, and been immediately faced with the prospect of not only burying her father, but of acting as the focal point for all the people who wanted to pay their respects to their fallen leader. After the ceremony, she had avoided going back to check on Gordon. Her feelings of grief and loss were so overwhelming that she couldn't handle the prospect of any more bad news, and she had simply collapsed into bed and lain there, unable to move but unable to sleep. Eventually she began to feel oddly restless, so she had set out for a walk, but her feet had just carried her straight back to the clearing. There was a tender spot on her heart that she thought would never heal, but at the same time she worried she was becoming numb. She craved activity and excitement, both as a distraction and because it was her natural state of being.

She wanted to avenge her father, to complete the mission he had left her. But there was something else she wanted first. She wanted Gordon.

She knew she was falling for him when they played with D0g and the gravity gun, at Black Mesa East. The air was warm and the sun was setting. He had been fascinated when she showed him the gun, then when he'd mastered it he'd grinned, and his whole face seemed to light up. Her stomach had kept doing strange flips whenever their eyes met.

They were apart so frequently after that, and so much was happening, that it was difficult to separate her feelings for Gordon from the many other emotions she was experiencing, and so she hadn't been entirely certain what it was she actually felt. But when she found him in the rubble of the Citadel, she knew that she was in love. She had tried to keep it from him as they traveled to White Forest, but as they had grown closer she found herself smiling at him, laughing with him, and coming out with ridiculously cheesy flirtatious lines, some of which she couldn't help, most of which she could. And she had noticed him watching her when her back was turned, protecting her when they fought. He had robbed the antlions' nest to save her life, and he had held her after her father had died.

Alyx had asked her dad once, how a person could know if they were really in love. He had laughed and replied, if you had to ask whether you were really in love, then you weren't in love. She knew how Eli had valued love, and also how much he had enjoyed watching her relationship with Gordon develop. So she thought he would understand what she was going to do.

She had had crushes before, Resistance boys who went to noble deaths, and she had fooled around with a few of them, but she had never gone all the way, because it had never felt quite right. With Gordon, it felt scarier and more serious, but it also felt right. He was the subject of much speculation among the female rebels, and there had been a certain lewd comment about the Opener of the Way that had sent cackles around the women's dorm. Alyx had laughed along with the rest, but she couldn't help blushing, and she couldn't ignore the sensations she felt whenever she thought about Gordon that way.

Alyx had grown up knowing that you had to seize the moment, because you never knew how long anything was going to last. What had happened to her father was the perfect illustration of that. And she had decided that this, while Gordon was recuperating, was going to be their moment. Before he sealed himself back into that HEV suit.

Gordon strode on through the forest, removing his glasses to rub at his eyes. He was very tired now, and was only walking onwards to delay the point at which he would have to start back. The fact that this was utterly illogical didn't bother him in the slightest. He slowed when he saw Alyx on the path ahead walking towards him. In the heat of the moment, directly after the Advisors had attacked, he had felt able to embrace and console her; but now his innate reserve had taken hold again. She might not want him to hug her; it might seem as if he was trying to take advantage of the situation. She might not even want to see him. He relaxed a little when she stopped in front of him; obviously she did want him around; but the look on her face was one he'd never seen before.

"Gordon," she lowered her eyes as she spoke to him, "I'm really glad you're ok. We had to…" she paused, then swallowed. "We buried my father and the others. I'm sorry we couldn't wait for you to be there; no one was sure when you were going to wake up." She smiled, and raised her eyes to meet his. He saw that they were full of tears. "Barney always said it was impossible to wake you, once you really got comfortable."

He smiled back to show that he appreciated the reference, and wished he could dry her eyes.

"Would you like to see my dad?" she asked quietly. When Gordon nodded, she turned and began to lead him along the path. Neither of them spoke, but at some point he realised they were holding hands.

The graves were marked with plain white stones. When they stood together in front of Eli's, Gordon let go of Alyx's hand and sank to his knees. He touched the fresh soil lightly with one palm. He couldn't think of anything to say, but he knew Eli wouldn't mind. He had always been ok with Gordon being a quiet guy.

When he felt Alyx kneel down beside him, he felt a sudden rush of hope. He turned to her, and spoke cautiously.

"Before your dad died, he said he was going to tell me something. Do you know what it was?"

She thought it was a rhetorical question and smiled, uncertain. "No… what was it?"

A wave of disappointment flooded through him then, and he spoke slowly and quietly, but with a bitterness he'd never have thought possible.

"Alyx, did it never occur to you to ask your father, I don't know, "Hey dad! How come this guy who was in his twenties when I was a little kid is still in his twenties?" Do you know just how disturbing that feels for me, by the way? "How come a guy from Seattle who lived in New Mexico just shows up in… wherever the fuck this is, and you all know he's coming?" Nobody is asking these questions except me?" His face was desperate. "Your father went along with the experiment. He had his doubts, but he told me it would be ok. Look what happened… look what happened to me."

He knew that he was only saying these things to Alyx because he couldn't say them to Eli, and he also knew that being able to express his innermost thoughts to her so freely meant that what he felt for her was definitely the scary kind of liking. But that didn't change the fact that he was acting like the worlds biggest asshole, and he wasn't quite sure why. And when you picked a fight with Alyx Vance, you got more than tears and recriminations. He began to fear for his own personal safety.

She turned to him, her face a mask of fury, but he didn't move back. It was exhilarating just being near her.

"You… selfish… _idiot. _My father was supporting a wife and a young child. Black Mesa even owned the house I grew up in! Don't you think Breen might have been able to use that as leverage? All you had to lose was the chance to get your name in Popular Scientist, but you still went ahead anyway, didn't you?" Alyx stopped, possibly taken aback by the fact he was nodding and smiling to himself. This was the kind of catharsis he hadn't realised he was yearning for. He'd been worrying for so long that the truth about his failings would emerge, that to finally hear them confirmed by someone else brought nothing but intense, abject relief.

Man, he thought, I am seriously messed up.

"Go on," he said, and she did.

"Then you show up years later out of nowhere, and everyone thinks you can save us. You know why? Because my dad told them you would. And you did. But now my dad…" She was crying now. "He stepped in front of us; he made them take him first. Sometimes I wish…"

She couldn't finish the sentence, but he thought knew what she had been going to say, and it was the final blow he'd been waiting for. His heart broke, and all the tension he had been carrying around for days left his body. He felt light and empty now as he rose to his feet. He had finally understood that he was no more and no less responsible than Eli, than Bryce, or any of the others who had been worried or suspicious about the experiment but had gone ahead anyway because of what they thought they could achieve. And if Alyx didn't want him, well then... now that he had brought her to the safety of White Forest, he was free to go. He stood facing Alyx and bowed his head, his stance oddly formal.

"Your father was one of the best people I ever knew. I'm sorry for what happened… I'm sorry for everything."

With a twinge of guilt, Alyx remembered how he had cried similar words as he lay in his hospital bed. She watched as he turned from her and began to walk away. Suddenly, she noticed a small shadow detach itself from the other shadows in the undergrowth and move onto the path.

"Gordon!" He heard her scream, turned back, and saw the headcrab right before him. This wasn't Lamarr; he could see the beak. And he was totally unarmed. There weren't even any big heavy sticks he could use as a club.

He did the only thing he could think of to do, which was jump with his feet together, and land on it as hard as he could. It was like trying to stand on a football, and he lost his balance as it writhed beneath him. As he fell to one side, he heard it chitter. It looked completely unharmed, but now it was angry.

This wasn't how he'd imagined going. Gordon squeezed his eyes tightly shut, and hoped it wouldn't hurt too badly. He knew it was a vain hope; he'd watched enough people become zombified, and it looked like one of the most unpleasant things he'd ever seen. He heard a rapid, high-pitched blast from Alyx's gun, and when he opened his eyes, the creature was dead. He straightened his glasses, and saw Alyx coming towards him, a bemused smile on her face.

"Gordon, did you just try to… _squish _a headcrab?"

"My boots… the suit's pretty heavy… usually I can just squish 'em," he mumbled. He could feel himself blushing as he lay there on the ground, in the mud. Alyx began to giggle helplessly then, and an answering grin spread over his own face. She reached out her hand and helped him up, then suddenly her hands were on his back and his hands were in her hair, and they were kissing, and it was frantic and clumsy and wonderful. Alyx took him by the hand and lead him back to the base, and Gordon was astonished by how quickly he covered the distance.

They went to Gordon's room, and now he was grateful for the lock. Then they stood for a moment, staring at each other, neither of them sure how to proceed. Gordon had been with women in the past, but he suddenly felt shy and awkward. Of all the changes the Combine had brought about, the fact that a red-haired, short-sighted theoretical physicist was now considered hot property still took some getting used to. Alyx on the other hand was inexperienced, but as in most situations she was also fearless, and she stepped forwards and kissed him again, pulling him against her.

After they made love, he rolled to one side and embraced her, drawing her close so that his lips were against her ear. He whispered how sorry he was, he hadn't meant what he said, but she was the only one he could talk to and it had come out all wrong. She whispered back that she understood, she knew he hadn't meant it, and look at everything he'd been through… She pushed him gently onto his back so that she could explore his body, fussing over his battle scars; and he adopted a gruff and stoical demeanour as he told her exactly how much each one of them had hurt. It was the first time since the resonance cascade that anyone had touched him with any gentleness, and he drank it in like a thirsty man.

Eventually, she grew quiet, and nestled into his side. He felt her head resting on his shoulder, and he was filled by a kind of pleasant melancholy. He knew what had to be done. When his suit was fixed, and when he was strong enough to wear it, she would want to head north. He loved Alyx and Alyx loved him, and that, he realised, gave him enough of a reason to fight. Knowing he would probably never have the answers he craved was bittersweet, but looking at her, he thought that maybe he could take it.

* * *

**A/N:** so there we have it. No more Gordon striding around White Forest in a mood (think Mr Darcy with added headcrabs); the angst has been purged, the sexual tension has been released, and now the key players are in physical and emotional position to start Episode Three! Stay tuned.


End file.
